In the Blue of the Morning
by Copperboom Brazzlefrat
Summary: Eventual R/J pairing. Spoiler story. This is the revival version: editted, and updated. Enjoy. R/R.
1. An Introduction

Welcome to the revival of In the Blue of the Morning.  
  
This is the new, edited, and updated version, under what is apparently my new account, because my old one was deleted.   
  
My inspiration for this came at 5:45 on an August morning when I was feeling kind of lonely. I was also outraged by spoilers.  
  
I return to this story, still outraged by spoilers, but writing things my way. Hopefully you all like it.  
  
On a side note, this edition is dedicated to my girls at Stars-hollow.org, for being the bestest Literaties ever. :-) 


	2. Prologue: Her

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This is the first half the prologue of In the Blue of the Morning. It takes place from Rory's POV on her last morning in Washington.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Prologue: Her  
  
It's early. Almost 5:45 in the morning. It's earlier than I have to get up, but for some reason, I've set my alarm for this time every morning since I arrived here.  
  
The glowing numbers on my digital alarm clock flash from 5:44 to 5:45, and I methodically reach out to shut off it's alarm before it can release it's deafening, harsh sound. Then I turn on my back, and lie awake, staring at the ceiling.  
  
It seems it's only seconds before light starts filtering through the curtains of the one, lone window in this room. Then I remember why it is that I get up at this time. I quietly throw my covers aside, and get up to meet the welcoming morning light, basking in the slivers of light that push their way between the curtain and shed light on the dark floor.  
  
I can't decide what I love most about this time of day.   
  
Maybe it's the cool breeze the rushes swiftly - but not quite hurriedly - through the open window, and past me, tickling my tired senses, still dreamy with sleep. Maybe it's that I can just barely see the moon and the stars in the setting of a cerulean blue sky, lit by the slowly rising sun.  
  
Maybe it's the sound of a few cars, driving briskly along on the desolate roads that turn into on-ramps, and expressways that whisk past the tall buildings nestled in the heart of the city. Maybe it's that I like to wonder who exactly is in these car, and where they're headed to - or going from.  
  
Maybe it's because in the distance I can just see the Mall. I can see the Washington Monument, and even further away, mirroring in the reflecting pond, is the Lincoln Memorial. I can't quite make out Mr. Lincoln's face from here, but I know that that is surely him, in his chair, and engraved in the walls next to him, are the Gettysburg Address, and the Emancipation Proclamation. ... I like the Lincoln Memorial - of all the things here that I thought I would like, I never imagined that the Lincoln Memorial would end up my favorite. Not that Mr. Lincoln wasn't a great president, I just thought it'd be like every other monument. But there's something about it, something about sitting on the steps, and staring out onto the reflecting pool that puts me at ease. It helps me to think, to sort out things. Not that I've managed to sort out much ... but at least it's silent, in that busy kind of way. I mean, there are always people around - tour groups, tourists, security guards. But I'm all by myself then, and there's no one there to talk to me or to interrupt my thoughts - except for maybe the occasional page from Paris ("Where are you?") or a bit of small talk with someone I've met from another school.  
  
Maybe that's why I love this time of day so much. Because, to the be perfectly honest with you, it's the only time of the day that my roommate Paris Gellar is remotely quiet. I say remotely because this is Paris we are talking about, and she mumbles while she sleeps, which is probably a result of her mind reeling at speeds up to 100 miles per hour, even when she's sleeping. Of course, if she heard that, she'd think I was slighting her - "How could my mind possibly be moving that much slower than my mouth?"  
  
I guess I can't be too critical of her. She's been awfully patient with me these past six weeks. But, I guess she had to be. I mean, I'm the only person who she really knows here. And I guess it helps that she is quiet aware of the fact that she and I are stuck together, to help run the student body for eternity. Well, at least senior. Of course, from where I'm standing it seems like a lifetime.  
  
And, after all, Paris is the only one who knows. She knows what is possibly the deepest secret I've ever had. Something I haven't told even my mother, yet - and she's my best friend. Of course, I don't really think that Paris actually ever wanted to know. It just kind of all came pouring out one day ... I'd been so distracted.  
  
I'm still so distracted.  
  
I wonder what he's doing right now. ... Is he sleeping? Is he awake? Is he reading? ... Is he thinking of me? Does he ever think of me? Does he miss me?  
  
I hope he misses me. I miss him, like I've never missed anyone before ... not even my mom.  
  
It's pathetic, really. At least some people would say it is. I mean, I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who loves me. A boyfriend who's written me so many letters, that if I got a dollar for everyone of them, I'd have enough money to buy myself a new car, and still have some left over to make a considerable donation to charity. A boyfriend who I've only written one letter to.  
  
But, I've actually written several letters since I've been here. A few to my grandparents, a couple to Lane - I even sent postcard to my mom, which is really kind of pointless when you think about it, since I talk to her on the phone every night before I got to bed. But, she likes getting mail, especially postcards ... I think they make her feel worldly. She has a shoebox filled with them somewhere. Of course, the shoes that originally came in that shoe box are probably still in it, covered by the postcards. They were probably a pair my grandma bought her on a whim. Something hideous, I bet. And I'm sure that at first glance, my mom decided she never wanted to look at them, ever again, let alone touch them to remove them from the box, or have to carry them into a store to exchange them. No, instead she'll just use it to squirrel away her clutter. That's my mother for you. But I can't really criticize her, it'd be hypocritical, simply because every day I see myself acting more and more like her, and picking up her bizarre tendencies. The early rising ... now that's my dad. But everything else is all my mom. My love for movie nights, junk food, coffee ... Harvard ... my boyfriend - basically everything I know and love is all her doing, teaching, encouraging. And I love her for all of it ... or at least the great majority of it.  
  
Which is why this is killing me like nothing ever has before.  
  
It's killing me because I can't tell her about my shoebox ... the shoebox filled to the brim with unfinished, never to be mailed letters ... all to him. I can't tell her about my dreams in which my loving boyfriend suddenly morphs into him, and I wakeup, startled, but finally feel that "crazy, happy" feeling I get at every thought of him - the feeling that she's been telling me about my whole life.  
  
And worst, I can't tell her about this moment, when I'm yearning for him more than I ever have for anything in my entire life. This moment when I finally realize what I love most about this time of the morning is the dim light of the sun, reflecting off the royal blue sky, casting a blue shadow over everything in that room, that, for some reason, causes me to think of him the most. And I can't tell her about my last, early morning in Washington D.C., when I'm only playing against time, and my own stubborn conscience, and I look out my one, lone window ... and up at the sky, and wonder if maybe - just maybe - he's thinking of me, too ... somewhere ... in the blue of the morning. 


	3. Prologue: Him

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This is the second half the prologue of In the Blue of the Morning. It takes place from Jess's POV, in his bedroom, on the morning of the day that Rory is supposed to return home.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Prologue: Him  
  
It's early. It's 5:45 in the morning, which, for the record, is much earlier than I have to get up. But, Luke's alarm went off about a half an hour ago, and I haven't been able to get back to sleep since. It's ironic, really, because it's the first morning that I haven't had to get up before 7 o'clock all summer. But here I am, lying awake, staring at the ceiling, sleepless in Stars Hollow.  
  
Not that it matters anyways, because at about 7:30, Luke will come to the bottom of the stairs, and yell up to me that he'd really like my help with the Saturday morning rush. And I'll get up and help him. Not that helping is really my thing - I'm not really the Boy Scout type. But, the guy is giving me a second chance. I mean, I screwed up - even I can admit it - and I came back asking to live here again, sure he'd shoot me down. But for some reason, he said yes ... so I think I owe the guy. He didn't have to let me live under his roof and all. Plus ... I guess, somewhere, in some scenario, there might be something good to be said about helping family.  
  
I'm not sure why I came back here. I was supposed to be happy the day I finally managed to get shipped back to New York ... but I wasn't. Then again, I wasn't supposed to fall in love my second day in Stars Hollow, and I did.  
  
What I do know is the feeling that I get around ... her ... is one that I've never gotten around anyone else. I can't describe it, Nathaniel Hawthorne couldn't describe it ... there just aren't words for it. But I know I want to feel it all the time, and I never want it to go away. It's addicting.  
  
The morning light is starting to seep in through my blinds and a cool breeze blows over me, causing me to sit up and look towards my window, and for some reason, I'm compelled to get up and actually watch the world outside it. Which is strange all in itself, because there is really nothing to look at. A dumpster. Some back streets - they look pretty friendly, but they are probably considered to be the dangerous parts of town. It's nothing like New York City.  
  
This was my favorite time of the day in New York. I'd get up at this time every morning to stare out our small kitchen window in the distance. At first, I only did it to watch for my mom on the mornings that she wasn't asleep in her bed when I woke up. But later, it just became something of solitude ... to give me a little peace.  
  
Propped up on the counter, I could look out on my small corner of New York. In the distance, I could just barely see the peak of the Empire State building. I could look down onto the city from our tiny apartment on the twelfth floor. It wasn't up that high, but it was high enough for me to be able to watch the expressways change into off-ramps, and morph into busy, crowded streets, where taxies are seen more frequently than cars, and where along the side walks, people would walk towards signs, illuminated by the slowly dimming streetlights, and then descend upon the downward flight of stairs that lead to the Subway and the train that they hoped to make on time.  
  
... I wonder how she likes living in a big city. I mean, I guess it depends what your definition of "living in" really is, because she's really just visiting and only for a little while. But six weeks could feel like a long time with the maniac she's staying with ... I suppose it might feel like she's lived there forever. But I bet she loves it ... I loved it ... at least I did. Until I realized the one thing that the city, even in all it's glory, lacked.  
  
Her.  
  
She's coming home today, I think. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I know she's coming home today. I know when she arrives at the train station in Hartford, she will get upon a bus, scheduled to arrive at the curb of the Stars Hollow bus stop at exactly 2:43 PM. And, I wonder if, when she gets off the bus, if she'll look past the smile of her excited mother, her best friend, to see if I'm lurking around somewhere. I wonder ... if I should go ... even if she can't be detoured away from her crazed, caffeine driven mother ... at least then she'd know ... that I'd been there ... that I cared.  
  
It's a bad idea, though. Not because I don't want to, and not because I don't care ... because believe me, I do, as strange as it may sound. It'd just be too hard. And, on the off shot that she could tear herself away to come talk to me, I have no idea what I would say. I can't let myself show that I was actually hurt by her leaving. I can't shot the disappointment I felt every afternoon when the mail came and there were no letters, or the stab I felt every time the phone rang at 10:30 at night ... and it was just another wrong number.  
  
And mostly because I don't know how to explain the ... distraction, that I seem to have acquired in her absence ... the distraction I embarked upon in hopes of estranging myself from the situation with her.  
  
The problem is that the distraction comes in a complex package: blonde hair, hazel eyes, five feet, five inches tall, and one-hundred and twenty-five pounds, answers to the name Shane Mannex. She's nothing more to me than a distraction ... unless you want to get really technical, in which case, I guess the appropriate term for her would be my girlfriend.  
  
I feel nothing with Shane. She's attractive enough, and everything. But her eyes are empty, and her smile is fake, and stained from smoking - which she does more than I ever did. And she's a great kisser ... but there's no spark there. And she's from Detroit, a bad area ... so she has an idea of where I come from. But she's simply a distraction.  
  
It's wrong, I know it's wrong, no one has to tell me. (But I hear it enough from Luke, anyhow.) But it's not like I was waiting around in the diner, serving food to gossiping dance instructors who eye me like a piece of strip steak, getting paid the bare minimum wage, and no tips, just hoping that this golden opportunity would show up. It just happened. She took a break from work, about two weeks after ... she ... left for D.C. Came in for and iced tea. And before I know it, she's asking me to show her around town - since she's new here.   
  
If she hadn't had shown interest in me, I never would've even thought twice about it ... I'd seen a million girls just like her in New York, looking for a new piece of arm candy. But someone, the it seemed like the perfect solution to the rut I was in, so I took her up on it.   
  
And I thought maybe that it had started working. But obviously it hasn't. Because here I am, standing in front of my bed room window in the dim light of the sun, that reflects off the blue sky and casts a shadow over everything in the room. It reminds me of her ... and her piercing blue eyes, and it hits me like a bullet racing at 100-plus miles per hour, causing me to catch my breath. I try to compose myself ... "Get a grip on yourself, Mariano, you're losing your touch." But it's no use. So ... I do what I can. I look up at the sky and I hope that ... maybe ... just maybe ... and only if I have the slightest shot in hell ... that she is thinking of me, too ... somewhere ... in the blue of the morning. 


	4. One Last Time

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This first chapter takes place in Washington, D.C., at Rory's spot in the Washington Mall. She is just an hour away from departing for Stars Hollow, but is trying to gain some last minute conscience by reflecting, oddly enough, in front of the reflection pond.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
One Last Time  
  
Grey storm clouds loomed over head, rolling through the sky ominously, and off in the distance thunder could be heard.  
  
From her seat at the edge of the reflection pond, Rory looked up at the sky and sighed. "At least it started out nice," she thought to herself as she curled her knees up to her chest and started hugging her arms around them.   
  
She peered at her watch. 7:15 AM. She had to be at the train station in an hour - her train left at 8:30 for the five hour, grueling ride to Hartford, on which she would be accompanied, again, by Paris.  
  
On any normal day in Washington, Rory would've sat on the steps of the Lincoln, and looked out over the mall, thinking. But not today. Today was not any normal day ... it was her last morning in Washington.   
  
It wasn't so much that she was going to miss Washington, because she'd be back ... she knew she'd be back. She'd loved what she'd seen, and she wanted to show Lorelai. No, she wouldn't miss Washington, only the time it had bought her.  
  
So today, Rory sat, knees curled to her chest, on the edge of the reflection pond. Peering in, Rory could see her mirror image perfectly. She looked even more carefully, craning her neck to look into her own eyes.   
  
Had she changed? She hoped she hadn't - change was something that scared her now, more than anything. Rory wanted desperately to return to Stars Hollow the same way she left it - as the girl that, for some strange reason, Jess thought was special.  
  
And then, she was distracted from her person reflection. By giggling.  
  
At first, she felt a little disgruntled by it, but when she looked not far to her right, she noticed a couple. A brunette sitting in the arms of a dark-haired boy, beaming as he spoke to her.   
  
Suddenly, Rory felt alone. More alone than she ever would've liked to, and her face became pensive, and she snapped it back forward again.  
  
She wanted that. She wanted what they had. But, she didn't want it with Dean. She wanted more than a silly high school relationship based on kisses, dances, bracelets, cars, anniversaries and shoplifted cornstarch. She wanted to banter about literature. She wanted a connection - something deep, something more about the feelings on the inside than on outward appearance. She wanted it to be about the ties that bound two people together by strings from the heart, and not from forced hand-holding (although, hand-holding, not forced, was a very nice thing). She wanted to be able to look into someone's eyes and say everything she was thinking ... without saying a single word. And she wanted it to be with Jess.  
  
Just as her mind was becoming completely lost in thoughts of Jess, the thunder rumbled in the distance.  
  
"I don't suppose that's a good sign, huh?" Rory questioned the sky.  
  
She looked sad for a moment, but suddenly a look of hope sprung on her face as she reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out a shiny new penny. Her face is pensive at first, but then determined, and she looked over at the Lincoln Memorial. She began to speak, softly.  
  
"So, Mr. Lincoln, I think that ... over these past few weeks, you and I have come to an understanding. You let me sit on your steps, day after day and wallow in my own sorrows ... sometimes I cry, and then I get tear marks all over your suspiciously clean staircase - which by the way, I'm sure my grandmother would love to talk to your maid about - but, I just have this one last favor to ask you. I know you're ... well, dead, and all ... and that what I'm about to do would probably be a misdemeanor if I was caught, and I may possibly be mistaken for a terrorist ... but I'm just asking for one wish. That's all. And all I'm asking for is ... for everything to turn out ok. Eventually. I mean, I know they can't at first ... but, sometime, before I graduate ... I want things to be ok. And I want to know what it feels like to really, truly, fall in love ... real love, not puppy love."  
  
Rory stood up from her spot and threw the penny into the reflection pond just as a startling voice rang out from behind her.  
  
"Rory!" Paris bellowed.  
  
Rory clenched her fists, and grimaced but took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was it. Just a few more hours, and she'd officially be free of Paris - at least for a little while.  
  
"Paris," Rory said, turning to meet Paris's intimidating glare.  
  
"I've been looking for you all over!" she ridiculed.  
  
"You should've known to look here. I'm always here if you can't find me," Rory shot at her.  
  
"I'm sorry that I don't record the places you like to go when you decide you want to play one of our rather often games of hide and seek, Gilmore, but incase you've forgotten we have a train to catch," she shot back.  
  
Rory's mind reeled at the things to say to Paris as she looked directly in her eyes. Among the things on the list were "Do you know what this is like? Do you have a solution for me? Can you provide any advice, or hell, just a little consolation? Do you know what it's like to just want some time to think and not want people around to stare and analyze?"  
  
But she didn't say anything of these things. Instead, she let Paris take her arm firmly in her hand and drag her back towards the bus station, where they would board the bus back to the dorms one last time, and get off at their stop, one last time. They would walk the path to their hall, and Rory would look up around her as Paris babbled, and think about how the trees were similar to those by the bridge in Stars Hollow, which would cause her to uncontrollably play over the events of she and Jess's picnic lunch in her mind at least a dozen times before they would some how, have made it to their door, with very little recollection on Rory's part. In Paris's frustration and anticipation, she would struggle with the lock on the door ("This stupid door! You'd think that the least they could do would be to put us in facilities with properly working doors!"), just like she had the very first day, and Rory would calmly take the key from her, and open it on the first try without a word. She would enter, sling her backpack over her shoulders, and drag her two giant, rolling suitcases out the door ... and be on her way back home, whether or not she was ready.  
  
"I hope you don't think that I already got your bags ready by the door, because I didn't," Paris spoke firmly.  
  
"Okay, Paris," Rory uttered in monotone.  
  
"And I hope you realize that we need to be checked out by 7:45, and that it is 7:25 now, so if our sorry excuse for a bus is slow, and caught in traffic again, and we are late to check out, and leave a bad mark on Chilton's squeaky clean reputation, that I will personally make sure your name is put next to that mark," Paris continued.  
  
"Okay, Paris," Rory repeated.  
  
"I also hope that you recognize that you've spent a great amount of time here just thinking, and I know for a fact that it's not about our platform, or the student body, or how we can improve live at Chilton. I know I said all you had to do was sit there and look nice, but you might've been mistaken for a rock if you'd stayed there much longer," Paris took one last stab.  
  
"Okay, Paris," Rory had given up on arguing with her. It wasn't worth it anymore, not now. So she simply succumbed to Paris's aggression, drowning her out and following the path to the already waiting bus, one last time.   
  
The sky opened up and began to rain - at first rather slowly, and then increasing in speed. Rory stopped and looked up at the sky squinting.  
  
"Rory!" Paris called, and drug her more hastily to the bus, where she gave her a small shove up the stairs, and pointed enthusiastically at a pair of free seats, where Paris gave her a push on the shoulders to hurry her in taking her seat. Her head leaned against the window, and she watched the sights of the Mall flutter past her, one last time.  
  
"Time to go home," she sighed. 


	5. Finally

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: The second chapter is Rory's arrival home to Stars Hollow. Within minutes of stepping off the bus she gets a rude awakening, and finds herself running for the Gilmore residence.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Finally  
  
Finally.  
  
It was the best word to describe Rory's trip home. Every stop they made on the train, she'd let out a sigh of relief that she'd seem to be holding since the last stop.   
  
"Finally."  
  
It's what she said when she and Paris parted ways in Hartford. Of course, that finally was more of a cheer than a sigh of relief. It was six weeks of pent up frustration, anger, and comebacks that would never have done her much good.  
  
"Finally."  
  
It's also what she said once she was on the bus, and for every mile marker they passed. The person sitting next to her on the bus thought she was sick ... or schizophrenic, one of the two. She got up within fifteen minutes of sitting next to Rory. (She also said "Finally," when this woman finally got up and left. She smelled like cats, and chose to stare bitterly at her the whole time without making any sort of conversation. Of course, it was probably good that she hadn't.)  
  
And now, that the bus had come to a rather screeching halt, at a bus stop all to familiar to Rory, that's all she could said "Finally, finally, finally," she mumbled as she made her way from the back of the bus, through the crowded aisles, and fidgeted with the overhead compartment, which seemed to have a mind of it's own and a fate worse than death in mind for her pour, stuck backpack.  
  
Rory had never been this impatient in her life. She had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn't decide what it was. Nervousness, excitement, anxiety, wonderment. They were probably all down in there somewhere. She distractedly yanked upon her backpack, several times, the passengers of the bus waiting impatiently for her to depart.   
  
If she hadn't been so absorbed in her fate once she stepped off the bus, she would've noticed that her bag was coming lose - and she would've prepared herself before her final tug which sent her backwards into the seat behind her (and nearly into the poor man's lap who had chosen to sit by the window, and was now deeply regretting it as Rory's backpack, crammed with books, sat in his lap).  
  
"I'm so sorry, sir. I'm so sorry, really," Rory apologized profusely.  
  
"It-it's alright, really," said the man, trying to hold back his disgruntled attitude.  
  
"Miss, if you could just step off the bus, please? We are waiting for you so that new passengers can board," the driver directed at Rory, who blushed feverishly out of embarrassment.   
  
Rory hurried her way down the aisle, brushing people along the way with the edge of her backpack, and apologizing all the way.  
  
She'd barely gotten half way down the steps when the bus driver started waving the boarding passengers on the bus, and suddenly, Rory was slammed against the banister.  
  
"Oh, ah. Ouch, wow. Yea, sorry ... watch the compartment over seats 21 and 22, it has a thing for backpacks. Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry," Rory acknowledged the people as they walked past her, giving her blank and sometimes ridiculing stares.  
  
Somehow she managed to make it off the steps. She looked around, in a near panic for her mother - but was relieved to see her sitting on a bench a small distance away with two cups of freshly brewed Luke's coffee, that she swore she could smell, even from ten feet away.  
  
Lorelai smiled brilliantly. "Any politicians manage to corrupt you?"  
  
And Rory was off and running. Lorelai only managed to set down the cups and stand seconds before Rory came barreling into her arms.  
  
"Finally!" Rory said joyously.  
  
"Finally!" Lorelai replied.  
  
("Finally!" said the bus driver as he watched Rory get off the bus, and out of the realm of entrance, so he could pull away from the curb.)  
  
Rory started as the bus's engine revved once, and began to move, and she pulled away frantically.  
  
"Oh! No, my luggage - my two suitcases they're-"  
  
"In the car," Lorelai cut in.  
  
"What? How? I didn't even notice the driver open the hatch," Rory inquired.  
  
"That's because the whole bus was just waiting for you to get off, slowpoke. What happened? Someone try to con you into running for Mayor of Hartford? 'Cause let me tell you, you can really pull off the whole 'worldly' look," Lorelai joked.  
  
"No, it's just my backpack. It got stuck. In the overhead compartment ... I don't think anyone's fed it in awhile," Rory tried to kid back.  
  
"So, Luke's? Real food, how's that sound?" Lorelai prodded.  
  
Rory nodded in agreement with Lorelai, who continued talking as they began walking towards Luke's. But Rory wasn't listening. She was looking around - to her left, her right, her left again. Over both her shoulders, then one three-hundred and sixty degree turn to survey Stars Hollow for what - actually, who - she was looking for. She'd nearly given up as she and Lorelai passed stepped up on to the curb and past a few garbage cans, when she saw him.  
  
But something was different about him.  
  
Mainly the fact that another girl seemed to be stuck to his face.  
  
Rory stopped. She couldn't move. Her mouth opened to speak, possibly to yell, but her throat burned like someone had taken a match to it, and the words couldn't come out. She tried to take a breath, but her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work. And suddenly she was taking a step back.  
  
A step directly into the garbage cans behind her, her backpack falling clumsily out of her grip and causing a racket that caused everyone in the town to stop and look ... including Jess.  
  
He was startled at once, pulling away from the kiss, and stopping the blonde in front of him from continuing her quest. He looked to Rory instantaneously, and met her eyes, searching for some answer ... the only thing he could see was a panic, unlike anything he'd ever seen in Rory before, not even when she had kissed him. His eyes became gentle, and looked at Rory ... trying to convey something, something that normally, Rory would've understood, but instead, the only thing she could think to do was run.  
  
So she did.  
  
She was off and running like never tomorrow. Whizzing past Jess, leaving her mother in the dust and wondering what exactly had just happened. Bursting on to the scene of the Gilmore residence in what no-time-flat ... but seemed like forever. Babette waved, but Rory didn't even notice. She bounded onto the porch reaching in the turtle, and finally kicking it over in frustration to produce the key. It made no difference, since she seemed to have lost the ability to grip it, and it fell out of her sweaty hands to the grounds a dozen times before she managed to get a hold of it with two hands and unlock the door to the house.  
  
It was only once she got inside and threw herself on her bed that she realized she'd never really run before.  
  
It was also when she began to cry. 


	6. And So it Goes: Him

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This is one of those intermittent chapters that covers the feelings of Jess and the recent occurrence in he and Rory's very pending relationship. The title of this chapter is in reference to the song "And So it Goes," by Billy Joel. It has some very appropriate verses that remind me of the R/J relationship, and the secret of the kiss that only they (and Paris) know about.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
And So it Goes: Him  
  
The sound of the garbage cans near the curb crashing near Luke's made everyone in town stop. It made me stop. My heart may have even skipped a beat – which wouldn't be the first time it has since I've met Rory Gilmore. Of course, she is also the only person who's ever had that ability, and she doesn't even know it.  
  
I didn't have to look to my left to know that it was Rory. I just knew. I don't know how, or why … I just did. And I silently scolded myself for not going in at two o'clock, like I promised, just to give myself a nice, secure, cushion of time.   
  
I told Shane that I had to be back at two o'clock. Of course, that's probably the reason I didn't make it back on time. She's not that good with time, Shane. Doesn't wear a watch, probably has never owned one. I asked her why once, and she told me time stops for her. I don't know if she was joking or not, and to tell you the truth, I was kind of amazed I managed to get something resembling a conversation out of her, because she's never been much for conversing, either. I don't really buy into that theory. I don't really buy into any of Shane's theories, or ideas … not that she has many of her own of course. And this thing with she and I … it's a compilation of ideas, I guess you'd call it. A compilation that I think I'd like to have my name removed from right about now … of course, it's my luck that it's stuck there, in permanent ink.  
  
I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I never do, though … things just seem to manage to kick me in the ass when I least expect it. I don't know why I was there, or how I ended up there to tell you the truth. In all honesty, I didn't plan on hanging around with Shane today. Somehow, she always manages to find me. Honestly, I could care less if I see her or if I don't. I know it's not going to last – I'm not blind. It'll only last as long as I want it to last, or until school starts and Shane finds someone who interests her more, which is bound to happen if I don't do it first.  
  
Of course, the thing is that I don't know when I'll do it. I really haven't planned it … I've thought a little about it, but not a lot. I just know it will happen. It'll come to me when it does, and I figure, why spend all the time thinking about it until it does?  
  
I feel guilty, though. At least, I think this is guilt. Maybe it's just a stomach bug … no, this is definitely guilt. It's the same way I felt the night I crashed Rory's car and her wrist was fractured. Except for some reason, this time it hurts more. Maybe then I just knew I had screwed up and I felt awful for injuring her. This is different … this time … I know I've really hurt her emotionally, which makes me feel awful, firstly for hurting her, secondly because bones heal – they might hurt when it rains … emotional scars last a life time, this I know. I never meant to hurt her. Never. I didn't think she'd react that way.  
  
I think more what I meant to do was make her realize. The more time I spent with Shane while she was gone, and the more and more that I've realized distracting myself from Rory is just not an option, the more I guess I hoped this would make her see things straight. I guess in a way, I kind of wanted to make her jealous. It's sounds awful … I know.  
  
But I'm not Dean … I won't spend the whole time waiting around for her, especially not when she didn't even give me the slightest clue what was going on in her mind, or that she was leaving. If she had, maybe it'd be different.  
  
I don't even know what's going on with them. I haven't seen Dean since a few days after Rory left. Maybe he joined the army, got shipped off to a base in Alaska, took up moose wrestling – he is tall enough, after all.  
  
I hated to see her like that. I've never seen her run before … I'm not sure I've seen anyone run that fast before. I've certainly never seen her leave her mother in the dust like that … and of course, Lorelai proceeded to give me a death glare like none other before picking up Rory's backpack, throwing it in the back of her Jeep, and driving off after Rory. Rory beat her, though … by at least a minute. She was running so fast.  
  
And of course, everyone saw. If it had just been Rory running into the garbage cans, no one would've noticed, but it was the combination of her and the backpack (which I'm willing to bet weighs more than her) that made the racket. So, now, after I've managed to stay out of everyone's hair all summer, I am back in the spotlight again. For hurting Rory.  
  
Now don't get me wrong here … because I do feel bad. And eventually, I'm going to make things right, if I can. I want to talk to her, I want to know what's going on in her mind. But the thing the Stars Hollow Gazette won't cover when this is featured on the front page tomorrow is … that I'm hurting too. 


	7. Question and Answer

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This chapter takes place in the Gilmore house after Rory has come home heartbroken from seeing Jess with Shane.   
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Question and Answer  
  
An hour.  
  
That's how long Lorelai had been waiting in Rory's room. That's how long she had been watching Rory unpack, silently, hoping that she wouldn't have to bring up event in town ... hoping that Rory would just come clean with whatever it was that was (now) obviously going on between her and Jess.  
  
Rory had been working fast. She couldn't remember a time when she'd ever packed or unpacked this quickly. It was partially because she just wanted to get it over with ... and mostly because Lorelai had been staring intently at her for the past hour, and she was in no mood to discuss Jess, or anything about him, or that which came within a ten foot radius of him. She had no explanations ready for her mother. Nothing could've prepared her for what she came home to see ... and certainly, nothing could've prepared her to talk about it.  
  
So the two sat in silence, in Rory's room.  
  
Lorelai's face was pensive as she watched Rory scatter from one corner of the room to the other. She wasn't sure who exactly it was that was unpacking Rory's bags ... she looked like Rory, she sounded like Rory ... but this was never who Rory had been before she'd left.  
  
It was gnawing at Rory, too. She wanted to tell her mother so badly about the kiss, about the feeling she got in her heart when she saw that girl with Jess. She needed to tell her ... or someone, anyone, really ... that she wanted Jess so badly it hurt. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to hug him, she wanted to sit in a dead silence with him at the bridge, and just stare out across the water. She'd come home with every intention of making that possible ... and now ... she's just come home.  
  
Once Rory had emptied the last suitcase, she finally looked up at her mother.  
  
"Uh ... the suitcases?" Rory seemed to have lost the capability of putting a full sentence together.  
  
"The hall closet," Lorelai gestured towards the door.  
  
Rory felt like she was being released from jail as she let herself out into hall, wheeling the suitcases behind her.  
  
Lorelai watched as her daughter walked out into the hall, and as she sighed relief. She wasn't sure what to do in this situation. She wasn't sure how to handle it. For the first time ever, she had no clue exactly what Rory was feeling, and she obviously wasn't going to tell her. She stood up and began pacing around the room ... past the bed, past the dresser, past the book shelf, past the desk and the shoebox labeled "Letters to Jess" sitting on the chair in plain site. Lorelai almost kept walking, but doubled back, and looked at the box. She cocked her head in curiousity, and after listening very closely for Rory's footsteps, she couldn't help but take a peek.  
  
Lifting the lid as quietly as possible, she found dozens beyond dozens of folded - some crumpled - pieces of paper. A few were thick, and shoved in envelopes - a few were on plain notebook paper and folded into fours. She gasped a little at the site of the letters ... and then she heard the echo of the gasp behind her.  
  
"What are you doing?" Rory asked.  
  
"Uh ... I, uh ... nothing. Nothing," Lorelai tried to cover, turning around, and placing the lid on the box blindly.  
  
"What's that behind you?" Rory could blow her mother's cover anyday.  
  
"Oh, this?" Lorelai held up the box, displaying it. Rory nodded, looking panicked. "This, is ... a box. A very fine, well-made, box at that."  
  
"Well, you cleared up all my concerns about it's durability. But there's still one more burning question I have," Rory said in a slightly caustic manner.  
  
"Whatever it is, the answer is three," said Lorelai, and gave a cheesy smile as she tried to make light of the situation.  
  
"What were you doing with the box?" Rory interrogated.  
  
"Well ... see, the box here ... uh ... it ... fell. That's right, it fell," Lorelai stumbled over her words.  
  
"And how did it fall?" Rory questioned further.   
  
"Well, I was ... coming over this way to ... open the window ... since I was feeling a little hot. And, well, I bumped the chair - you know me, I'm a total klutz - and it fell off, and I was just trying to pick it all up," Lorelai said, and hoped she'd fooled Rory.  
  
"Did you ... read anything inside?"  
  
"No. No. I didn't, I just picked it all back up, and put it back inside. Didn't read anything. I don't read other people's letters ... isn't that federal offense, anyways?" Lorelai attempted to joke.  
  
She failed. Miserably.  
  
"Only if you take the already mailed, or waiting to be mailed letters out of the box and actually read them. And how did you know they were letters?" Rory approached, looking stern.  
  
"Well, I did happen to notice here, being the perceptive person I am, that the box was labeled ... 'Letters to Jess,'" Lorelai stated the blatantly obvious.  
  
"And you're sure you didn't read anything?" Rory tried to gain confidence.  
  
"I'm sure, Senator McCarthy ... although, the whole reason behind why you would have a box filled with 'Letters to Jess' in light of today's events really bring to mind a whole new boatload of questions," Lorelai snapped.  
  
"I'm pretty sure you shouldn't ask them right now," Rory walked around Lorelai and snatched the box, and buried it under her bed.  
  
"But-" Lorelai tried to push.  
  
"No." Rory said plainly.  
  
"Fine, fine. Do you want to go to Luke's for coffee, then?" Lorelai took a stab at easing the tension.  
  
"Not really," Rory didn't even look at Lorelai when she spoke.  
  
"So, how 'bout them letters?" Lorelai prodded at Rory.  
  
"Why do you want to go to Luke's so bad anyhow? Aren't you two still fighting?" Rory diverted the attention away from her and Jess.  
  
"Luke's has the best coffee. And, correction - Luke is fighting, I am at peace," Lorelai corrected, sarcastically.  
  
"Well, thanks for the reassurance, Squanto," Rory said.  
  
"You sure you don't want some coffee?" Lorelai urged Rory.  
  
"Why do you want me to come down to Luke's so bad?" Rory asked.  
  
"Well, for starter's, it's your first day back in town. I haven't gotten to talk to you, I've barely gotten to see you because you took off on me when you saw Jess. And I think I'm getting a really rotten end of the bargain here when you get to ask all the questions, I get no answers, and you won't even come with me for coffee," Lorelai pointed out, counting the reasons on her fingers to aid her visually as she went along.  
  
"Fine. Fine, we'll go get coffee," Rory conceded. 


	8. Nothing and Everything

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This chapter is based off the song "Nothing and Everything" by Evan and Jaron. I do not own the song, nor am I affiliated with the band. In this chapter, Rory and Lorelai go into town to get a coffee from Luke's, and Rory deals with an unexpected confrontation.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Nothing and Everything  
  
Everyone was staring. When the car parked in front of Luke's, when Rory got out of the car. When they entered the diner, when they sat down at the counter.  
  
Rory looked around her from side to side. "Do I have something on my face?" Rory whispered to Lorelai.  
"Tons of stuff," she replied.   
  
"What? Where?" Rory panicked.   
  
"Tons of stuff. A nose ... two eyes ... a mouth ..." she smiled sarcastically at Rory.  
  
"Real funny," Rory shot.  
  
"If you can be evasive, I can pretend to be funny," Lorelai silenced her.  
  
The two sat down at the counter, Rory becoming increasingly interested with her shoes, and Lorelai with the wall.   
  
"Coffee?" Luke said, stepping up to the counter.  
  
"Oh, uh ... yea," Lorelai said, awkwardly.  
  
Rory lifted her head up to look at Luke. "I'll take one, too ... but, to-go."  
  
"Rory! I hadn't even noticed ya. Welcome home. How was Washington?" Luke's gruff attitude suddenly melted.  
  
"It was nice, thanks Luke," Rory said.  
  
Luke grabbed her a to-go coffee cup, and filled it to the brim then snapped a lid on. "Here ya go, kid. On the house."  
  
"Thanks," Rory said quietly, as she continued to notice the stares following her. She turned to head out the door, trying hard not to look anyone directly in the eyes.  
  
"Hey, wait, where are you going?" Lorelai asked.  
  
"For a walk," Rory looked at her, feeling her face flush red as everyone looked at her.  
  
"Why? I've barely gotten to see you. You've been running off every time I get a chance," Lorelai complained.  
  
"Because everyone is staring at me in here," Rory said in a hushed voice.  
  
"Everyone will be staring at you outside," Lorelai joked.  
  
"Yes, but at least then they aren't all in the same room," Rory whispered, and turned to leave, letting the door slam behind her as she made her way out.  
  
She walked along the sidewalk slowly, scuffing her feet as she walked. She realized the truth of what her mother had been saying - everyone was staring. As she walked by the payphone, the woman on it stared. Ms. Patty passed her, and stared. As she walked by the window of Doose's, the cashiers turned to gawk at her. This only made her think more of Dean, and she felt even more awkward. She shoved her hands deep into her pocket, resolving to look at her feet as she walked.  
  
It was turning out be a pretty good idea - until she ran into someone. The person caught her by the waist, supporting both their balance, and Rory looked up slowly, hoping beyond all hope that it was just a stranger.   
  
But of course, it wasn't. She'd barely met his eyes when she knew who it was. She drew in a deep breath, and could smell the familiar scent of his cologne ... and she recognized the gentle, ginger way he touched her. Gathering courage from some place she looked into his eyes.  
  
"Rory," Jess said, his tone short but soft.  
  
"Oh, Jess," Rory said, quickly breaking free from his grasp by pushing his hands away gently. Her fingers burnt with the sensation of touching him. "I should really watch where I'm going ... you know ... not look at my feet so much ... then maybe I wouldn't run into things like garbage cans, and people. Yea, well, I should really get going. I need to uh ... get a paper. Yea ... I need to get a paper. Nothing like the Stars Hollow Gazette to catch me up the gossip I missed. Wow. Okay."  
  
Rory took a step to the side, and walked past him hastily, trying to hold her chin high.  
  
Jess wasn't sure what had just happened. Rory had bumped into him, and almost fell - but he'd caught her. She seemed contented enough in leaving ... but still disturbed. As he watched her hair fly behind her, he quickly winced for a second, but ran to catch up to her.  
  
"Rory," Jess said more gentily and softly.  
  
"What?" Rory said, not turning to look at him.  
  
"... How are you?" Jess hesitated.  
  
"Alive," Rory's tone of voice became increasingly blunt.  
  
Jess drew in a breath, and dared to ask another question, "How was Washington?"  
  
"Patriotic," Rory said with fire.  
  
Jess's head cocked a little, then looked at he looked at her seriously. "So, this is how it's going to be now, huh?" he rivaled.  
  
"Not that it matters to you, anyhow," Rory shot.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jess questioned.  
  
"You don't care," Rory said softly.  
  
Jess reached for Rory's wrist, and turned her around. "I'm asking, aren't I?" he professed. Rory yanked away her wrist, clutching it in her hand, and rubbing it. "Why wouldn't it matter to me if you are blunt with me?" Jess said, searching her eyes.  
  
"Who needs me to talk to when you can have a giant blonde leech attached to your face?" Rory fired. She looked at her shoes again.  
  
"So this is about Shane?" he said, understanding.  
  
"Oh, you do know her name!" Rory pretended to act surprised, putting her hand to her chest and dropping her jaw.  
  
"I'm not that shallow, Rory," Jess defended himself.  
  
"Coulda fooled me," Rory replied harshly. Rory turned and began walking towards Bootsy's again. She silently wished that the stand could appear in front of her so this walk would get easier.  
  
"You know, I'm not Dean," Jess called after her.  
  
Rory stopped in her tracks and doubled back, and stared him coolly in the eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Doesn't matter to you, anyways," Jess mocked.  
  
"Don't play that card," Rory scolded.  
  
"It means ... that I'm not going to sit around here, all summer and pine after you just because you kissed me. You can't expect that you could leave, for six weeks, not tell me anything, and think that if the opportunity came along, I wouldn't take it," Jess said, never raising his voice, but increasing with sternness and sharpness.  
  
"Yea, well, I didn't expect that opportunity would just come knocking on your door with a bottle of blonde hair dye and a miniskirt," she guarded herself.  
  
"You didn't let me know you were leaving. You had a week before you had to go. You didn't come into Luke's-" Jess began.  
  
"I had finals that week. I was busy. Unlike some people, I choose to go to school, on a daily basis, and study and do well," Rory explained.  
  
"Is that why your mom came in and got four cups of coffee every day? Now, I know she can drink anyone under the table when it comes to coffee, but I don't think she would just come in here, alone, and get that much coffee for herself, and none for you," Jess presented.  
  
"It was a favor to me. I had been up late studying, and that way, I got an extra half an hour to sleep," Rory defended herself once more.  
  
"I don't buy it," Jess shot.  
  
"I didn't ask you to," Rory said, "and I don't understand why you continue to prod me about all this when you can tell I don't want to talk." She began to walk away again.  
  
"Because I deserve to be talked to, and I deserve a few answers. You may not want confrontation, but even you, Rory Gilmore, can agree with me here ... you know I'm right," he said.  
  
"What? What do you want me to answer for you?" Rory inquired impatiently.  
  
"Why didn't you leave a note in the diner before you left? Why didn't you call? Why didn't you write a letter, or send a message through Lane or a carrier pigeon or something?" Jess asked gently, and genuinely.  
  
"I don't know," Rory replied, and began to stare at her shoes once more, imagining to bore a hole through them.  
  
"Did you at least think about calling? Or something? Or writing?" Jess asked even softer, trying to make contact with her eyes.  
  
Rory sighed, "Yes. All the time."  
  
"So why didn't you?" Jess was confused.  
  
"Because ... I've never been in this situation before. I don't know what to do or even really how I feel," she began, "and the thing is that it doesn't seem like it would've mattered anyways. It obviously didn't mean as much to you as it did to me, or maybe we wouldn't be here. Or maybe I'm just a screw up when it comes to love, I don't know."  
  
"It would've made a difference," Jess assured.  
  
"I don't buy it," Rory mocked him.  
  
"I didn't ask you to," Jess's voice got softer.  
  
Rory drew in a breath, "You know, I hope you've had your fun, questioning me, because it really has sparked a few questions that I have for you."  
  
"Shoot," Jess replied, trying to keep calm.  
  
She sighed, and looked up into his dark brown eyes, and she began to shake. With one breath, she began rambling. "... Does she know who Bjork is? What do you two talk about anyways? Does she read at all? Is it a student-teacher thing?" Her voice began to rise, and grow with intensity, "Will you reread the Fountainhead over again for her, even though you hate it? Will she give the painful Ernest Hemingway another shot for you? Will you go to a town event, which you normally wouldn't go to, and bid ninety dollars on her picnic basket, full of stale, oddly concocted food? Will you buy her a pizza, and take her to the bookstore, and browse with her for hours? Does she even know where the bookstore is? Will you try to talk to her mother for her, even though she hates you? Will you clean out her rain gutters? When she comes home upset, can you read her face, and know that something is wrong ... will you tell her to 'talk?' Will you bring her a Shags CD, and notice that her hair is a little different? Will you jump in a sleigh to ride with her? Will you destroy her competition in the snowman building contest?" She took a deep breath, and dug in again, "Will you bring her a care package of food when her mother is out of town? Will you squirm when she confronts you about ... things? Will you comment to her about being bright-eyed and bushytailed? Will you switch the movies in Bambi and Dumbo cases at the movie store with X-rated movies, so her picture will end up off the display? Will you let her tutor you? Will you drive her car and take her to go get ice cream? Will you reassure her she'll achieve her dream of being a journalist, and promise she'll do it, and even offer to help her practice by driving straight at her and screaming in a foreign language? And when ... or if ... you swerve to miss hitting something furry, and total her car, will you make sure she's okay before you hightail it to the bridge? When you get sent back to New York, will you call her on a payphone, even though it's long distance? Will she skip school, and miss her mother's graduation so she can get on a train, to a place she's never been, just to see you, because you didn't say good-bye? And ... will you come home from New York ... the place you love, the place you call home ... and show up at her mother's best friend's wedding ... will she kiss you? Will she kiss you, even though she has a boyfriend, who she is supposed to love, because she is ... ecstatic to see you? If she goes away for the summer, will she fill a shoebox full of letters to you, and spend hours by the phone, debating whether or not she should call?"  
  
Rory stopped and looked Jess in the eyes, hers welling up with tears, and Jess searching for an answer. It was minutes before Rory turned and began to leave, but Jess had to stop her one more time.  
  
"Rory!" he called.  
  
Rory turned, silently.  
  
"Can I just ask, one more question? Just one more?" He was on the verge of pleading.  
  
"Do I have a choice?" Rory spoke softly, but harshly and with discord.  
  
"... Are you still together with Dean?" Jess asked.  
  
Rory took a deep breath, and looked at her shoes.  
  
"Rory?" Jess prodded.  
  
"Yes," Rory sighed, quietly.  
  
"Great. Just great," Jess said, sharply. And then he turned towards the bridge, and walked away, leaving Rory staring after him.   
  
Minutes passed ... but she just stood there, watching him leave ... and staring in the place that he had stood. 


	9. Slipping: Him

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This is another intermittent chapter based on the thoughts of Jess after his confrontation with Rory.   
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Slipping  
  
So here I am at the bridge. I always seem to find myself here at the most crucial moments. I don't know that I ever intend to end up here, my legs just bring me here, whether or not I want to.  
  
Shane never comes to the bridge with me. Ever. I wouldn't bring her here. She wouldn't like it. And it wouldn't feel right anyhow, because in the back of my mind, I've pegged this as Rory and I's spot, even if she has only ever been here with me once, physically, this is where I come when I can't get her off my mind. So it just wouldn't be right to bring Shane here …   
  
And for the record, no, she doesn't know who Bjork is, we don't talk about much, I don't think she's read a book since kindergarten, and it isn't even a student-teacher thing. It's more of a … she finds me and pins me up against a wall thing.  
  
I'm really not sure what just happened back there. I was coming out of the bookstore when Rory walked straight into me. She almost fell over, so I caught her … and there I was … holding Rory … clinging to her waist, holding both of our balances … I could take the smallest of breaths, and my nose … my mind … my body … would be filled with the smell of her shampoo. I could barely see her eyes, which she shut tightly as soon as I caught her. And I could feel her gasp when she realized who it was who'd caught her. I was finally where I'd wanted to be all summer, even if it was just for a split second.  
  
Of course the complications that come with getting something you've wanted awhile, are that you find yourself wanting even more. I wanted to hug her tighter, I wanted to bury my head in her hair … I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her lips, her neck, her cheek, her forehead. I just wanted to let the entire world close out around us and be able to hold her, and bask in the glow and the warmth of just begin that close to her.  
  
But the reality is that the world didn't close around us. So I couldn't do anything. I just resolved to simply stand there, until she pulled away. And I prayed, possibly for the first time in my entire life. I prayed that she'd just stay there … and that Shane wouldn't come walking down the street from Gypsy's.  
  
It made kissing Shane seem even more dull than it had all summer.   
  
Never in a million years did I expect from her to just walk away, and I never expected to chase her down the street, asking her why she hadn't been in touch.  
  
I also didn't expect for her to blow up at me the way she did. I didn't expect her to be so harsh, and so cold. Rory's always seemed so quiet, and even tempered. She's one of those people who always thinks before she speaks or does anything. In a way … she almost reminded me of … me.  
  
I'm not sure why she acted the way she did … because I've never yelled at Rory. I never could yell at Rory. I might talk a little sternly, or sharply … but I could just never bring myself to raise my voice to her. I guess she was scared … and I know she was hurt. It was obvious she was hurt when she looked into my eyes.  
  
I don't know that I've ever seen so much pain in her eyes since I met her. I don't know that I've seen tears welled up in her eyes quite the way they were.  
  
And it killed me. Don't think it doesn't. It drove me crazy, because here in front of me, was standing the girl who I care so much about … who I would do anything for. She was near tears because of something I'd done, because of more than one situation I'd been a part of … because for some reason, Rory wants to be with me. And I wanted to do something … but I couldn't.   
  
When she was going on and on with the questions, a million thoughts were racing through my mind. The first of course, was the hope that she'd broken things off with Dean … because then, everything would be a different story.   
  
But then she hadn't.  
  
And I don't want to be part of this love triangle anymore with her and Dean. I want to be with her, or nothing at all. I can't spent all my time chasing around after someone I can't have. It'll be the death of me if I do. I've put myself out there, and I've put myself on the line.  
  
Rory knows why I bought her a pizza, reread The Fountainhead, jumped into a moving sleigh, why I bought her basket, and why I moved back from New York. She also knows very well that Shane wouldn't ever do any of those things, and that I would never do any of those things for Shane. She's not Rory.  
  
And maybe … maybe, I should've told her that if she wasn't with Dean, thing would be different. But I shouldn't have to put an ultimatum on it for it to happen. There shouldn't have to be those kinds of limits and boundaries, it should just come from her because she knows that it's right. She needs to be ready, after almost a year, to admit to everyone, that she has feelings for me, instead of just by letting it slip through secret moments, and stolen kisses. 


	10. Glass and Ruby Slippers: Her

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios. I also do not have affiliations to the Wizard of Oz, or Cinderella.  
  
SUMMARY: This is another intermittent chapter based on the thoughts of Rory after her confrontation with Jess.   
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Glass and Ruby Slippers  
  
I've spent a lot of time staring at my shoes today. An awful lot of time. These shoes were brand new before I left for Washington, and I barely wore then since I was in my uniform for almost everything. But after looking at these shoes, and inspecting them thoroughly, I can't believe how dirty they have become. There is a huge grass stain on the side of my right shoe, and the tip of my left shoe is covered in dirt. Which got me to wondering why the fairy godmother ever gave Cinderella glass slippers. I mean, you can see right through them, and you are bound to see the dirt inside, and out of them. And the insides of shoes are always worse than the outsides. I mean, I can't speak personally about the pair of shoes I'm wearing now, mainly because I haven't taken them off. And I haven't taken them off because all I can do is stand here.  
  
I seem to have lost the ability to move. My legs feel like they are stuck here, in this very position. Someone has nailed my feet to the ground, and put braces against the backs of my legs so I can't bend my knees. Yet, somehow they feel week.  
  
He caught me. He caught me so I wouldn't fall. I wish I could've just stayed there, with him having caught me, in that position, for just a few hours. From where I was, I could take a small breath, and I could smell his cologne, and have a feeling of warmth rush over me. I could feel his hands and arms around my back, keeping me from falling, and sending sensations all over my back from his simple touch.  
  
But I had to look up. And from that point on started one of the most awful confrontations I've ever been in.  
  
I never wanted to be so cold, I never wanted to yell at him like I did. But suddenly, here on the sidewalk, from where Bootsy's - or any place of sanctuary - seemed so far, I felt a cold feeling rush over me, and suddenly all my emotions seemed to become overpowering and in control.  
  
Of course ... there were a few emotions that didn't. There was the happiness of seeing his face, alone, that made me want to throw myself into his arms and hug him, and cry. Cry for happiness, cry for sadness, cry for all the nights and days when I missed him, and all the moments at the Lincoln. There was the excited emotion that made me want to kiss him, and take his breath away, and make him wonder why he is with ... Shane.  
  
What kind of name is Shane anyhow? I've never met a girl named Shane? I've known a few guys named Shane ... there were at least two in my chem class last year. I guess it kind of fits though ... I mean, Jess is short for Jessica, which is most definitely not a guy name.  
  
Oh, what am I saying? Nothing about them is supposed to fit. He's supposed to fit with me. He's supposed to be with me, not her. He's not supposed to want to be with her, we're supposed to want to be with each other.  
  
He's not supposed to want to be with Shane ...  
  
Especially when I came home completely content on the idea of breaking up with Dean.  
  
I want to be with him. I want to go sit on the bridge, and sit by him, and think. Maybe that's why I can't move my legs ... because I'm afraid of where they will take me. And if I ended up there, I don't know that I could control these other emotions in the back of my head. The excitement. The happiness. And I also don't know what he's thinking. And even though I don't have a second wind this time ... I have a feeling that there is one for me in store somewhere.  
  
I divert my attention from the place Jess was standing long enough to look towards Luke's. And then it seems that none of that matters anymore. Partially because people are looking strangely at me now ... but mostly because Dean and my mother are headed this way.  
  
So I look down at my shoes again ... and now, I really wish they were ruby slippers ...  
  
I close my eyes tightly and click my heels a little.  
  
There's no place like home ... There's no place like home ... There's no place like home ...  
  
But when I open my eyes, I'm still here, not in my house. And Dean and my mother are only closer to me. And I bet you that neither Cinderella or Dorothy were ever in a situation like this. 


	11. Losing Grip

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This chapter is VERY loosely based on the song "Losing Grip" by Avril Lavinge. I do not own this song, nor do I have connections to A.L. This chapter is about Rory's first confrontation with Dean since she has returned home.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Losing Grip  
  
Lorelai ushered Dean along, and waved to Rory in hopes of catching her attention before she continued walking. Rory looked up at her mother and obviously noticed them. Her jaw dropped a little, which struck Lorelai as funny.  
  
It'd been awhile since Lorelai and Dean had been alone together. In fact, the last time had been that fateful night on her own front steps when he'd asked her a question that stabbed at her heart ... "She likes Jess ... doesn't she?"  
  
And she'd had no answer for him, which is what really killed her. Her head wanted to say "No, no, of course not!" ... But her heart knew the truth. She recognized the signs. She'd known that Rory was falling for him, as early as the Bid-on-a-Basket auction. He intrigued Rory in a way no one ever had. So when Dean asked her ... she couldn't lie. But she couldn't tell the truth. All she could do was stare. Her heart broke for the kid, it really did.   
  
Her suspicions and instincts had only been confirmed when she skipped school to go to New York and see him. Then the events of the afternoon had proven her more right.  
  
So with Dean standing there, to her right, walking towards Rory, in the dead silence she searched for something to say. Something to break the silence and make light of the situation. "Well, uh, Watson, it looks like we've found her," Lorelai informed.   
  
"Uh, yea ..." said Dean as he stopped in front of Rory, who put on her best fake smile, and welcomed him.  
  
"Dean!" she pretended to be excited.  
  
Dean wasn't sure how to react. He and Rory had left each other on shaky terms - he hadn't wanted her to go. He'd written her dozens of letters while he'd been in Chicago, and even before he left ... but she rarely answered any of them. He'd gotten four letters. He kept telling himself that it was just because she was busy ... but then when he'd seen Jess back in town, he wondered if something else was going on. He wondered if Rory knew he was back ... and he wondered if the fact that Lorelai had never answered his question was a bad omen. His only comfort was knowing that Jess had spent most of his summer seeing a new girl - Shane Mannex - who worked at the drugstore in her free time.  
  
So he did what he could, and swept Rory into his arms, and picked her up. Despite the awkwardness he was feeling, he was happy to see her.  
  
Rory felt increasingly awkward. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, she felt uncomfortable, and was almost longing to go back in time and have Jess catch her fall.  
  
"I missed you!" Dean exclaimed, truthfully.  
  
"I ... I missed you, too," Rory began hesitantly, "I ... I got your letters. I'm ... sorry that I didn't, you know, write more. We were just so busy. Back and forth between workshops, and tours, and I barely got any time to call mom, and sleep."   
  
Rory looked to Lorelai for back up, "Oh, yea, Dean ... she barely had anytime to call me ... I mean, a half an hour a night tops, and her energy for bantering was completely lacking."  
  
Rory smiled gratefully at Lorelai, who smiled back, but felt strange ... almost like she was taking part in a crime, but yet, she had no idea exactly what it was.  
  
"Oh, it's ... uh, it's no problem," Dean covered the twinge of pain.  
  
Suddenly, over Dean's shoulder, she could see Jess walking back towards the diner, looking frustrated. As hard as she tried, she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, even as his back was turn.  
  
"Oh, uh ... Jess, is ... back, unfortunately," Dean told her, "... But I figured you already knew." He was searching for an answer.  
  
"Oh? What? Jess is back, oh, I didn't even notice that was him ... you know, back of his head looked a little familiar, but ... no, I didn't really know. No one told me, or anything. Just found out, actually ... completely news to me," Rory tried to cover.   
  
Lorelai desperately wanted to get out of this situation now. She didn't want to be around if Rory and Dean started arguing ... and what was going on was only confusing her more.  
  
"Well, uh ... I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds alone ... let you catch up-" Lorelai began.  
  
"No!" Rory stopped her, breaking free from Dean's grasp suddenly and taking hold of her wrist. "Stay. With us. We'd love the company ... and besides, I've barely seen either of you, we can all ... walk to Luke's, for coffee, and talk. All three of us. Together." Rory emphasized her point as well as she could.  
  
"Well, I just assumed you'd been out looking for him anyways, I mean ... you did go take that walk and-" Lorelai stopped once she saw Rory glaring at her, "Uh, fine. Sure," she complied.  
  
The three of them walked in a row down the sidewalk towards Luke's, when Lorelai noticed the to-go cup of coffee Rory had left with was still dangling between her fingertips.  
  
"Why are we going to Luke's for coffee? You still have coffee," Lorelai asked.  
  
"Because. I want to go to Luke's. And besides ... this ... is, uh, finished," Rory declared, and tossed the cup in the trash can at the corner. Lorelai heard the weight of the cup fall and hit the bottom of the can. Lorelai stopped for a second and peered in the garbage, as Rory was being questioned thoroughly by Dean about the trip. Inside the can, at the bottom of the nearly empty bag, lay the cup of coffee, which had popped open and spilled upon hitting the metal surface. Lorelai grimaced a little, and caught back up with Rory and Dean, realizing even more that what ever small crush Rory had once had on Jess in the back of her mind had grown. It had become huge, obviously bigger than what Rory felt for Dean ... bigger than Rory herself, bigger than Stars Hollow. ... The only question was what had suddenly put Jess at the top of her list. 


	12. Go From Here

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This chapter revolves around the conversation between Lorelai and Rory, sparked by Rory's bizarre reaction to Dean, and her earlier reality shock delivered by Jess and Shane.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually, R/J.  
  
RATING: PG (for language)  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Go From Here  
  
"All right, what's going on?" Lorelai demanded as she entered the Gilmore residence close on her daughter's heels.  
  
"Nothing!" Rory answered for what seemed like the twelfth time since they'd left Dean at Doose's to begin his shift.  
  
"That wasn't nothing, Missy, that was a whole lotta something," Lorelai remarked. She kicked the front door behind her and slung her overcoat and purse off her shoulders, and extended them towards the coat hook, which she missed. The coat and purse fall to the floor, but Lorelai simply ignored them and followed Rory to her room.  
  
"I didn't ask you what you thought it was," Rory said plainly.  
  
"What is going on, Rory?" Lorelai said a little more gently.  
  
"Nothing. How many times to I have to say it?" Rory asked, the proceeded to throw herself on her bed.  
  
"Until you tell me the truth," Lorelai announced.  
  
"How do you know I'm not telling the truth?" Rory said incredulously.  
  
"You forget, that I have told them all before, and 'nothing' happened to be one of my favorite responses. When your grandmother caught me making out with your Dad on the balcony, it was 'nothing', when I got a less-than-perfect grade on a math quiz, it was 'nothing', when she found the box to the pregnancy test in the waste basket it was 'nothing.' And obviously, it was all something. I'm good at these things. I'm a regular Sherlock Holmes," Lorelai stated.  
  
"So what, you're the superhuman Polygraph test now?" Rory interrogated pointedly.  
  
"Rory! Something is wrong! I know you. I've lived with you for almost eighteen years. I know your tricks, I know you're stubbornness – mainly because you are … me, when it comes to all that. And I also know, that when you tripped into the garbage cans after seeing Jess and that girl, then took off like the Roadrunner for home, that that wasn't 'nothing.' It was something," Lorelai's voice became increasingly understanding, but still stern as she finished.  
  
"It had nothing to do with Jess and Shane," Rory said bluntly.  
  
"Shane?" Lorelai asked.  
  
"Yes, Shane. Shane is Jess's girlfriend. Not that I know for a fact or anything, I just heard … tidbits, on my walk, and everything. And the point is that what she and Jess choose to do, or not to do, had nothing to do with my running off today," Rory explained.  
  
"I've got at least two things on you that would prove that theory entirely wrong," Lorelai challenged.  
  
"Like what?" Rory asked.  
  
"Like … I found you standing on the sidewalk, like an awestruck teeny-bopper who'd just seen Justin Timberlake's bare-ass. Only a guy can do that to ya, babe," Lorelai pointed out.  
  
"Exactly. I was excited to see Dean," Rory defended.  
  
"Is that why your look of amazement turned to one of sheer panic when you noticed us … mainly, Dean, coming towards you?" Lorelai asked.  
  
"You're exaggerating," Rory accused.  
  
"It was like you'd just seen The Blair Witch," Lorelai joked.  
  
"The Blair Witch Project was not scary … it was funny," Rory exclaimed.  
  
"Fine. Paris, PMSing, and no Midol left in the world," Lorelai stated. Rory shuddered a little.  
  
"Maybe so, but it didn't mean anything," Rory gave in a little.  
  
"You also brushed him off, and were in quite a hurry to let him get to work," Lorelai pushed.  
  
"It was nothing. I just wanted to get home, that's all," Rory explained.  
  
"You're not that good a liar, Ror," Lorelai tried to make light of the situation.  
  
"I'm not lying," Rory attempted to convince her.  
  
"Have I not taught you the Gilmore-patented 'Poker-Face'?" asked Lorelai.  
  
Rory buried her face in her pillow. It was just too much. She couldn't keep it up any longer.  
  
"Ikissedhim," she mumbled into the pillow, her words stringing together.  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Pillow," said Lorelai.  
  
Rory sat up, and looked in her mother's eyes, scared of the reaction, her voice shaking as she spoke slowly, "I … kissed … him."   
  
"Who?" Lorelai asked inquisitively.  
  
"… Jess," Rory cringed.  
  
Lorelai breathed deep, trying not to raise her voice, "When?"  
  
Rory was sure Lorelai would blow now, "At … Sookie's wedding. Before we were about to go walk down the aisle."  
  
"Hence the sudden, unplanned, undying need to go to Washington, right?" Lorelai put the pieces together.  
  
"Well … I would've had to go, I think. I just … I didn't want to research any other options, because I needed to get away. I wanted to clear my head in some place … not here," Rory tried to explain, admiring her mother's composure.  
  
Lorelai sighed, but kept herself reserved, and amazingly calm, "So … and this is the million dollar question … why did you kiss him?"  
  
"Mom, if that is supposed to be sarcastic-" Rory began.  
  
Lorelai cut her off, "It's not at all sarcastic. It's just an honest question. It's the question that out of who, what, where, why, when, and how … matters most."  
  
"I … I'm not sure. He was just standing there … by the lake, you know. And it was a beautiful day. And I was so happy to see him … I don't know that I've ever been so happy to see anyone. I'd missed him so much, for some reason … and I just kissed him," she said indecisively.  
  
"So what does it all mean, then?" Lorelai prodded.  
  
"I don't know. I came home today … ready to … end things with Dean. But then, I saw Jess with Shane. And now everything is … just not going the way I planned," Rory tried to make herself clear, but it was becoming more and more impossible.  
  
"What are you going to do then?" Lorelai tried to get her daughter to generate more rational thought.  
  
"I don't know," Rory said softly.  
  
"I hate … to, you know, point out the blatantly, and painstakingly obvious, here … but … you have do something. Because, you happen to have a boyfriend, who, you know, loves you, and thinks the entire solar system revolves around you. You have to do something. You did something, now you have to figure out a solution," Lorelai was blunt.  
  
"Don't throw the guilt card at me, Mom," Rory accused.  
  
"I'm not, Rory. I'm just stating what is the truth. Dean loves you, and he deserves better than this. He has been, for the most part, good to you. There have obviously been his moments of jealousy, and bitterness, but at the end of the day, he cares about you unconditionally-" Lorelai explained.  
  
"That's what everyone thinks," Rory muttered to a point where Lorelai could barely hear.  
  
"My point is … that he doesn't deserve to be strung along. And for that matter, neither does Jess. It's terrible to treat them that way, and you have to make a decision. And you can't just buy more time, by staying with Dean, and blowing him off … and, if you decide that it's Jess that you want to be with then, I guess I'll have to live with that, because I refuse to be Emily, and truthfully, if you want him, you can't just let whats-her-blonde-face run off with your man. But you need to figure things out, once and for all. For the sake of Dean, Jess, me, Luke, this whole damn town who watches your every move, and will eventually dig this up … and … yourself. Most importantly, yourself," Lorelai finished, quietly, and stood up, leaving Rory lying on her bed to think.  
  
It was only six-thirty in the evening. Earlier than Rory had ever even thought about going to bed, but suddenly, she could think of nothing else. So she pulled back her covers, slipped under the covers, clothes on and all, barely even remembering to slip her shoes off. She turned off the lamp next to her, and pulled the covers tight around her shoulders. Underneath the blanket, Rory's back lifted and fell with the weight of each heaving breath of sobs that she had held back … for so long. 


	13. Reflection: Her

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way shape or form affiliated with Warner Bros., Amy Sherman-Palladino, or their hit series "Gilmore girls." I do not own any of the following characters, or the settings in which they take place, or the scenarios.  
  
SUMMARY: This chapter is Rory's POV on the situation with her mother, and her decisions about Jess and Dean. This song is loosely based on the song "Reflection" by Christina Aguilera.  
  
PAIRING: Eventually R/J.  
  
RATING: PG (for language)  
  
In the Blue of the Morning  
Cry Myself to Sleep  
  
It's that time of day again.  
  
I've been lying here for hours, under the covers, with my clothes on. I'm not sure how long I've been here. I'm not sure how long I've been home, or how long it's been since I got my wakeup call. I've lost a sense of time.  
  
I thought about changing into my pajamas awhile ago, after I stopped crying. I thought I had no more tears left at that point. But, when I got out of bed, and started rummaging through my dresser, I realized that all my summer pajamas were still packed. They were still packed, in the suitcase that was still locked, sitting in front of my bed, staring at me. If I unlocked that last suitcase, if I unpacked my pajamas … then I would have to suffer the realization that my summer in Washington, the time I bought, and the time I'd had to think … was over.  
  
So I didn't. I've been lying here for the past few hours thinking. I'm not sure what I'm thinking about. For the first two hours, I was crying, and I really didn't put together much coherent thought. And now … I've just been thinking about … nothing, really.  
  
I think I've become an insomniac.  
  
Here I am … at 5:45 in the morning. I've been here since last night, and I still haven't slept. I can't lie here anymore. I need to move. I need to breathe.  
  
So, I get up and open the door to my room. The cool air in the rest of the house hits me like a ton of bricks, but the change in temperature reminds me that I'm alive.  
  
I go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. My under eyes are swollen and dark from tears and lack of sleep. My face, my body, the clothes on my body, my hair … they all show the signs of the hours that have passed, the events that I've outlived. They make me look tired. Maybe, somewhere, deep down, I am tired. But not now. I can't sleep now.  
  
And so I make the executive decision to go for a walk. I'm not sure where I'm going to go, or what I'm going to do, or if, given the lack of coffee I've had, it would safe to go out alone and unsupervised. But I'm still standing in the bathroom, staring at the mirror … and for the first time, in a long time … I just don't want to be me anymore.  
  
If I'm going to go out, I need to change. I don't want to feel the weight of everything that has happened covering my clothes. It's suffocating me, it's inhibiting me, it's lagging me down. I don't want to wear anything that belongs to me. I don't want to be Rory. I just want to go out, and walk the streets of Stars Hollow and observe, and exist like an innocent bystander or a tourist who knows nothing of what goes on this town.  
  
I drag myself away from the mirror, hit the lights and step into the hallway. I hear the lull of the TV and the flash of the lights. They collide with the light streaming in past the curtains blending to make a brilliant blue, that touches my heart and gives my soul life, and power.   
  
Sure enough, Lorelai has fallen asleep on the couch, again. Ads on QVC flash by, and I laugh a little – the last thing that we need in this house are any of those knick-knacks. I hope that she hasn't spent anytime trying to order those things … but the cordless phone is in her hands as she dozes. Leave it to Lorelai.   
  
I admire my mother. She has a lot of great qualities about her, and while some people, like my grandmother or Luke, would like to argue that her being slightly insane or childish is not an attribute to her personality, I think it's one of her best qualities. I admire that she can still have fun and act like a kid sometimes. I wish I could. I wish I could just feel free … free of pain, free of hurt, free of confusion. I mean, she gets her fair share and it packs a pretty fair punch when she gets it … but at least she has those moments of sweet release to tide her over, to remind her that life didn't always have to be the grown up world of jobs and colleges, politics and opinions, love and heartbreak … black and white.   
  
And then, suddenly, I am upstairs rummaging through my mother's clothes, picking out an outfit, and putting it on, shedding the clothes that were stained with my tears and my pain. I was brushing my teeth and washing my face, and pulling my tangled hair off my face in a messy bun. I was standing at the counter, signing a note to my mother "Gone for a walk, meet you here or at Luke's later. Love, Rory." And then … I was out the door, shutting it quietly behind me.  
  
The funny thing is that I don't remember the in-betweens. I kept getting from point A to point B, with no recollection of how I got there … which parallels my life, if you think about it. It parallels aspects of my life that I don't want to think about. So I'm not going to.  
  
And then I think about how I signed my "Love, Rory" so typically, just like I always do. But I wonder who I'm signing for. I mean … who is Rory?  
  
I am Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, the third, otherwise known as Rory. I am a daughter and a granddaughter. A student at Chilton, one of the elite, the vice president of the student body. I look like I'm dressed by the birds. I like to read. I am a girlfriend. I am the town's little princess. That's the Rory I signed for.  
  
But is that really who I am?  
  
I'm not sure it is.  
  
That Rory probably wouldn't have left her house at 5:55 in the morning, in her mother's clothes without permission. She wouldn't have skipped school and gone to New York to meet up with the former Stars Hollow hoodlum who'd been banished. She certainly would not have kissed him, and cheated on her boyfriend. She also wouldn't have come home with the intention upon breaking up with him … for none other than the boy in the plastic bubble.  
  
And I've done it again. Here I am, at Luke's … sitting outside on the porch, leaning against the window pane next to the door. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, or how I got here. I just know I'm here. I can't go without thinking about it anymore.  
  
By "it" I mean our situation. I'm caught in a corner, tied to a pole, pleading for mercy, kicking and screaming … all the while setting gravel and dirt free that ricochets and scratches me. It's all … metaphoric. But it's true. I've done this all to myself. Lorelai was right. I do need to choose.  
  
But it's hard for me to choose, mainly because I already have.  
  
I've known since the Bid-on-a-Basket Auction that Dean wasn't what I wanted anymore. He couldn't fulfill what I yearned for. He couldn't satisfy my literary needs. He couldn't go head to head in a debate. And after Sookie's wedding, I know for a fact that he can't give me kind of passion fire that I need, that I want. Jess … completes all of that.  
  
And then, suddenly, on the bus ride home, I suddenly had the confidence to tell Jess that I needed him. That he was what I needed.  
  
But we all know how that turned out.  
  
And now … maybe I'll never get my chance.  
  
Suddenly, the door next to me opens. I expect it to be Luke … but it's not. And there, in all his glory, stands Jess, messy hair and all. He looks down on me, and I feel intimidated and scared. After our previous confrontation I'm not sure what to expect.  
  
"Can I help you?" His voice is harsh at first. It can hear the hurt in it, and I feel terrible for that. I can hear the frustration too, and I know that feeling.  
  
"I … uh …" I stammer. I'm looking into his eyes, and I feel like a puppet. I'm just waiting for him to move me the right way.  
  
His eyes, soften and his voice softens, "I mean … do you want to come in or something? We, uh, don't open for another hour … but I could get some coffee going."  
  
My eyes simply agree looking into his … I don't need to speak the words. He knows I want to. He knows he has that power. He uses it to his full advantage, just not always in the right way. He holds open the door, leaning his arm against it, and offering me his free hand to pull me up.  
  
Place my hand in his palm, and try to grasp a hold on reality as he pulls me up with little effort. But I lose my footing, and stumble. I'm just not having any luck with the whole concept of standing up … I'm imbalanced. He imbalances me. But he compensates for that and stops my fall catching me with his other arm, and pulling me to him as the door swings open and we fall into it, holding it open together.   
  
This is déjà vu, I think. I look to the clock on the inside of the diner. It's 6:05. You know winter is getting closer, because it gets lighter later. And the sky is casting it's perfect brilliant blue over the center of town and Stars Hollow. Somehow, a stream of light manages to work it's way into the entry at Luke's diner, casting Jess and I in it's spotlight. Then I realize that it isn't déjà vu at all … this isn't the same as earlier. Because this time, we're having a little help from the blue light of morning. And then, I gather the strength to look into his eyes. 


End file.
